Fic: Close Call (3/8)
Title: Close Call (3/?)
Author: shining_moment
Characters/Pairing: Doctor, Donna, Martha
Rating: PG
Summary: As a doctor, Martha has seen plenty of blood but even so, seeing the blood of someone you know, someone you like, is a different thing entirely so she can only imagine how the Doctor must be feeling.
Disclaimer: I own two more handbags than I did a few hours ago but I still don't own Donna or the Doctor.
Martha thought she was ready, ready for what she was going to have to deal with when they arrived. She’d heard the raw desperation in the Doctor’s voice, his stark declaration that Donna was bleeding too much, that it wouldn’t stop and that absolutely couldn’t lose her. So she’d expected blood, expected that Donna would look as bad as most patients with a gunshot wound usually do and she’d expected the Doctor to be frantic with worry.
When they do arrive, it’s every bit as bad as she feared, maybe even worse, and she wonders if she was foolish and a little too bold in her assurance that he wouldn’t lose her. God, she really hopes not. Donna is white, as white as a sheet and there’s a worrying tinge of blue in the skin around her mouth. Her eyes are closed, her hair is stuck to her head and the Doctor was right about the blood- there’s a lot of blood. He has Donna in his arms, cradling her like a precious child, her injured side pressed against him, her other arm hanging limply down towards the floor. He presses his lips to her forehead, in what Martha suspects is an attempt to reassure himself rather than Donna since she’s clearly oblivious.
There’s a blanket tangled between them and a towel, a towel that was probably once white but is now a dark red, soaked through with blood. The blood is everywhere- his hands, his neck, the side of his face and his shirt is covered with it. As a doctor, Martha has seen plenty of blood but even so, seeing the blood of someone you know, someone you like, is a different thing entirely so she can only imagine how the Doctor must be feeling. Again, he leans down and rests his head against Donna’s and by this time Martha is close enough to hear his voice,
“Hold on Donna, please. We’re here now, you’re going to be ok, you’re going to be fine. Just hold on, I’m not going to let you leave me, not like this.”
Martha reaches them with the trolley and as much as she wants to comfort him, to somehow cut through the fog of desperation surrounding him, she realises she has no idea how to this time, no idea at all. So she switches into doctor mode- calm, efficient, matter-of-fact- deal with the immediate situation, assess Donna just like any other patient, push any other feelings aside for now.
“Doctor, let’s get her onto the trolley.”
He doesn’t reply and it’s as though he barely sees her, barely registers where he is. She tries again, her voice more urgent this time, her hand on his arm,
“Doctor, you need to put her down so we can get her inside. The quicker we get her in, the sooner we can start to treat her, make her better.”
He nods slowly but makes no move to let Donna out of his arms and as Martha places her fingers on Donna’s wrist and breathes a sigh of relief at the faint pulse she feels there, she hears him speak, “I lost her Martha, I lost her.”
“No Doctor, she’s alive, she has a pulse but we need to get her inside now.”
“No, before, in the TARDIS. I lost her, she wasn’t breathing and I had to-“
He stops, clutching Donna tighter and Martha thinks she may have to wrench her out of his arms if he doesn’t put her on the trolley soon,
“Listen to me Doctor. You got her back didn’t you? This is Donna we’re talking about- strong, brave, stubborn and clearly planning on sticking around but you have got to let me get her in there or yes, there is a chance you’ll lose her.”
Finally something appears to snap into place in the Doctor’s head and his eyes seem to actually see Martha for the first time since they arrived. He doesn’t say anything but he does at last place Donna gently down on the trolley, keeping hold of her hand and following as a flurry of hospital staff wheel her through the doors, shouting urgent orders to each other. For a brief instant he hears Donna’s voice in his head, as clear as day, “Oh my God Doctor, this is exactly like being on ER!” and he almost smiles.
They go through the first double doors and head towards a second set, where Martha stops and turns to him as Donna’s hand slips from his grasp.
“Is she allergic to anything Doctor?”
He rubs his forehead anxiously as he thinks, “Strawberries, she can’t have strawberries. She loves them but they give her a rash.”
“I was thinking more of drugs, medicines- anything she can’t have that you know of?”
“Oh, no, no, nothing, I think she’s fine with anything.”
“Is she on any medication at the moment, do you know?”
“I, um, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“And there’s no chance she could be pregnant?”
“What? No, I don’t think- I mean, no, definitely not.”
“Ok, good.”
Martha moves to follow the other doctors through the doors and, as the trolley disappears from view, the Doctor starts to head into the room with her but she stops him with a hand on his arm,
“You need to wait here Doctor.”
“Oh no, no way. I need to be in there, I promised I wouldn’t leave her.”
“And you’re not leaving her but you do need to wait here while we work on her,” her tone softens slightly, “This is me Doctor, Martha, and I promise you that the second there’s any news, I’ll be straight out to tell you. I promise, ok?”
He nods in resignation as his shoulders slump, “Just save her Martha. Please.”
His voice cracks on the please and Martha doesn’t trust her own voice to reply so she just squeezes his arm, looks straight into his eyes and nods before heading through the doors, leaving him alone with nothing to do but wait.
#
The Doctor isn’t very good at waiting, at doing nothing. It drives him mad, makes him terribly restless, Donna is forever telling him he has ants in his pants and she’s right although not literally of course.
He sits down, rests his elbows on his knees and puts his head in his hands because he has no idea what else to do. Only then does he realise that he is covered in blood, in her blood and the full horror of what has happened hits him. He closes his eyes to try and fight off the images of Donna lying on the bed in the medical bay, pale and cold, but they just get more vivid so he opens them again, tries to focus on something else, anything else.
It’s no use though, she is all he can think about, the only face he can picture- he can see the fear in her eyes when he found her lying on the floor, her brave attempts to keep smiling despite the pain and that moment, that awful moment when he realised she wasn’t breathing. He’d have given anything right then to have shared his regeneration abilities with her, even if it meant the next time he was injured there would be nothing that could save him. Instead he watched for a second, stunned, refusing to believe at first that he could be about to lose her, before springing into action and starting CPR as though his own life depended on it rather than hers.
He got her back though, she came back to him, her heart rate reappearing on the monitor above the bed, slow but definitely there and her breath faint against his cheek as he leaned down to hold her to him and realised he was crying, sending tears trickling down her forehead.
He stands up because he needs to move, can’t bear just sitting, unable to do anything to help her. It’s been such a long time since she went through those doors, too long, and he hopes that’s a good sign. Surely if it was bad news, if they were too late, if she was…well, surely if the worst had happened Martha would have already been out to tell him. Or maybe it means that it’s really bad, that it’s taking them this long just to assess the damage, to try and stabilise her before they can even start to figure out whether she’s going to be ok.
Suddenly he doesn’t feel too secure on his feet, his face feels too hot and his legs start to wobble slightly. He feels himself sway just a little before sitting back down, returning to his earlier position, head in hands, waiting for his vision to clear. He hears a voice breaking into his confused state but it isn’t a voice he knows, definitely isn’t Martha and right now, hers is the only one he really wants to hear.
“Sir? Here…”
Looking up, he sees a nurse, holding out a cup of water, her concerned face peering down at him and he tries to stand but ends up falling back down onto the seat with an undignified thud.
“Is it Donna? Is there any news?!”
The nurse shakes her head, “No, not yet. Dr Jones will come out as soon as there is, I’m sure. I just thought you could maybe use some water. To tell you the truth, you don’t look so great.”
The Doctor takes the water from her gratefully because she probably has a point, there’s a good chance he doesn’t look great if the way he feels is any reflection. He gulps it down thankfully and she smiles softly at him,
“Good, let me get you another. I can find you something to wear too so you can get out of that shirt.”
At his slightly confused look, she gestures to his chest, “The one you’re wearing there is in a hell of a state and when your girlfriend wakes up, she’s not going want to see that, is she?”
“Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he smiles weakly at her, “You’re right though, a clean shirt might be a good idea, thank you.”
“You leave it with me,” she pats him kindly on the shoulder before walking away.
He barely registers her absence before she’s back, handing a blue t-shirt to him and waiting for him to hand her his stained shirt before telling him to take care of himself and walking away.
What feels like hours more pass by and he is close to just breaking through the doors and demanding to see Donna when the sound of footsteps in the hallway catches his attention and he looks up to see Martha standing there. He’s afraid to speak, scared to ask her the question because he’s terrified of the answer but he does manage to overcome his shaking legs and stands up as she comes closer.
Martha takes a deep breath before taking him by the arm gently and guiding him back down to the seat he just rose from. As she sits down beside him, she closes her eyes briefly and exhales a shaky breath, eventually turning to him, wearing an expression on her face that he finds impossible to read.
“Doctor, the wound itself didn’t do any vital damage but she lost an awful lot of blood which put a huge amount of strain on her body and sent her into hypovolemic shock,” her voice drops a little lower as she reaches over to lay her hand on his arm, “Coping with the shock caused her heart to stop and we lost her…”
He hears nothing more because something, someone, is drowning out the words, a voice repeating “no, no, no” over and over. It’s only when Martha stands suddenly and puts her hands firmly on his shoulders that he realises the voice was his.
Author: shining_moment
Characters/Pairing: Doctor, Donna, Martha
Rating: PG
Summary: As a doctor, Martha has seen plenty of blood but even so, seeing the blood of someone you know, someone you like, is a different thing entirely so she can only imagine how the Doctor must be feeling.
Disclaimer: I own two more handbags than I did a few hours ago but I still don't own Donna or the Doctor.
Martha thought she was ready, ready for what she was going to have to deal with when they arrived. She’d heard the raw desperation in the Doctor’s voice, his stark declaration that Donna was bleeding too much, that it wouldn’t stop and that absolutely couldn’t lose her. So she’d expected blood, expected that Donna would look as bad as most patients with a gunshot wound usually do and she’d expected the Doctor to be frantic with worry.
When they do arrive, it’s every bit as bad as she feared, maybe even worse, and she wonders if she was foolish and a little too bold in her assurance that he wouldn’t lose her. God, she really hopes not. Donna is white, as white as a sheet and there’s a worrying tinge of blue in the skin around her mouth. Her eyes are closed, her hair is stuck to her head and the Doctor was right about the blood- there’s a lot of blood. He has Donna in his arms, cradling her like a precious child, her injured side pressed against him, her other arm hanging limply down towards the floor. He presses his lips to her forehead, in what Martha suspects is an attempt to reassure himself rather than Donna since she’s clearly oblivious.
There’s a blanket tangled between them and a towel, a towel that was probably once white but is now a dark red, soaked through with blood. The blood is everywhere- his hands, his neck, the side of his face and his shirt is covered with it. As a doctor, Martha has seen plenty of blood but even so, seeing the blood of someone you know, someone you like, is a different thing entirely so she can only imagine how the Doctor must be feeling. Again, he leans down and rests his head against Donna’s and by this time Martha is close enough to hear his voice,
“Hold on Donna, please. We’re here now, you’re going to be ok, you’re going to be fine. Just hold on, I’m not going to let you leave me, not like this.”
Martha reaches them with the trolley and as much as she wants to comfort him, to somehow cut through the fog of desperation surrounding him, she realises she has no idea how to this time, no idea at all. So she switches into doctor mode- calm, efficient, matter-of-fact- deal with the immediate situation, assess Donna just like any other patient, push any other feelings aside for now.
“Doctor, let’s get her onto the trolley.”
He doesn’t reply and it’s as though he barely sees her, barely registers where he is. She tries again, her voice more urgent this time, her hand on his arm,
“Doctor, you need to put her down so we can get her inside. The quicker we get her in, the sooner we can start to treat her, make her better.”
He nods slowly but makes no move to let Donna out of his arms and as Martha places her fingers on Donna’s wrist and breathes a sigh of relief at the faint pulse she feels there, she hears him speak, “I lost her Martha, I lost her.”
“No Doctor, she’s alive, she has a pulse but we need to get her inside now.”
“No, before, in the TARDIS. I lost her, she wasn’t breathing and I had to-“
He stops, clutching Donna tighter and Martha thinks she may have to wrench her out of his arms if he doesn’t put her on the trolley soon,
“Listen to me Doctor. You got her back didn’t you? This is Donna we’re talking about- strong, brave, stubborn and clearly planning on sticking around but you have got to let me get her in there or yes, there is a chance you’ll lose her.”
Finally something appears to snap into place in the Doctor’s head and his eyes seem to actually see Martha for the first time since they arrived. He doesn’t say anything but he does at last place Donna gently down on the trolley, keeping hold of her hand and following as a flurry of hospital staff wheel her through the doors, shouting urgent orders to each other. For a brief instant he hears Donna’s voice in his head, as clear as day, “Oh my God Doctor, this is exactly like being on ER!” and he almost smiles.
They go through the first double doors and head towards a second set, where Martha stops and turns to him as Donna’s hand slips from his grasp.
“Is she allergic to anything Doctor?”
He rubs his forehead anxiously as he thinks, “Strawberries, she can’t have strawberries. She loves them but they give her a rash.”
“I was thinking more of drugs, medicines- anything she can’t have that you know of?”
“Oh, no, no, nothing, I think she’s fine with anything.”
“Is she on any medication at the moment, do you know?”
“I, um, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“And there’s no chance she could be pregnant?”
“What? No, I don’t think- I mean, no, definitely not.”
“Ok, good.”
Martha moves to follow the other doctors through the doors and, as the trolley disappears from view, the Doctor starts to head into the room with her but she stops him with a hand on his arm,
“You need to wait here Doctor.”
“Oh no, no way. I need to be in there, I promised I wouldn’t leave her.”
“And you’re not leaving her but you do need to wait here while we work on her,” her tone softens slightly, “This is me Doctor, Martha, and I promise you that the second there’s any news, I’ll be straight out to tell you. I promise, ok?”
He nods in resignation as his shoulders slump, “Just save her Martha. Please.”
His voice cracks on the please and Martha doesn’t trust her own voice to reply so she just squeezes his arm, looks straight into his eyes and nods before heading through the doors, leaving him alone with nothing to do but wait.
#
The Doctor isn’t very good at waiting, at doing nothing. It drives him mad, makes him terribly restless, Donna is forever telling him he has ants in his pants and she’s right although not literally of course.
He sits down, rests his elbows on his knees and puts his head in his hands because he has no idea what else to do. Only then does he realise that he is covered in blood, in her blood and the full horror of what has happened hits him. He closes his eyes to try and fight off the images of Donna lying on the bed in the medical bay, pale and cold, but they just get more vivid so he opens them again, tries to focus on something else, anything else.
It’s no use though, she is all he can think about, the only face he can picture- he can see the fear in her eyes when he found her lying on the floor, her brave attempts to keep smiling despite the pain and that moment, that awful moment when he realised she wasn’t breathing. He’d have given anything right then to have shared his regeneration abilities with her, even if it meant the next time he was injured there would be nothing that could save him. Instead he watched for a second, stunned, refusing to believe at first that he could be about to lose her, before springing into action and starting CPR as though his own life depended on it rather than hers.
He got her back though, she came back to him, her heart rate reappearing on the monitor above the bed, slow but definitely there and her breath faint against his cheek as he leaned down to hold her to him and realised he was crying, sending tears trickling down her forehead.
He stands up because he needs to move, can’t bear just sitting, unable to do anything to help her. It’s been such a long time since she went through those doors, too long, and he hopes that’s a good sign. Surely if it was bad news, if they were too late, if she was…well, surely if the worst had happened Martha would have already been out to tell him. Or maybe it means that it’s really bad, that it’s taking them this long just to assess the damage, to try and stabilise her before they can even start to figure out whether she’s going to be ok.
Suddenly he doesn’t feel too secure on his feet, his face feels too hot and his legs start to wobble slightly. He feels himself sway just a little before sitting back down, returning to his earlier position, head in hands, waiting for his vision to clear. He hears a voice breaking into his confused state but it isn’t a voice he knows, definitely isn’t Martha and right now, hers is the only one he really wants to hear.
“Sir? Here…”
Looking up, he sees a nurse, holding out a cup of water, her concerned face peering down at him and he tries to stand but ends up falling back down onto the seat with an undignified thud.
“Is it Donna? Is there any news?!”
The nurse shakes her head, “No, not yet. Dr Jones will come out as soon as there is, I’m sure. I just thought you could maybe use some water. To tell you the truth, you don’t look so great.”
The Doctor takes the water from her gratefully because she probably has a point, there’s a good chance he doesn’t look great if the way he feels is any reflection. He gulps it down thankfully and she smiles softly at him,
“Good, let me get you another. I can find you something to wear too so you can get out of that shirt.”
At his slightly confused look, she gestures to his chest, “The one you’re wearing there is in a hell of a state and when your girlfriend wakes up, she’s not going want to see that, is she?”
“Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he smiles weakly at her, “You’re right though, a clean shirt might be a good idea, thank you.”
“You leave it with me,” she pats him kindly on the shoulder before walking away.
He barely registers her absence before she’s back, handing a blue t-shirt to him and waiting for him to hand her his stained shirt before telling him to take care of himself and walking away.
What feels like hours more pass by and he is close to just breaking through the doors and demanding to see Donna when the sound of footsteps in the hallway catches his attention and he looks up to see Martha standing there. He’s afraid to speak, scared to ask her the question because he’s terrified of the answer but he does manage to overcome his shaking legs and stands up as she comes closer.
Martha takes a deep breath before taking him by the arm gently and guiding him back down to the seat he just rose from. As she sits down beside him, she closes her eyes briefly and exhales a shaky breath, eventually turning to him, wearing an expression on her face that he finds impossible to read.
“Doctor, the wound itself didn’t do any vital damage but she lost an awful lot of blood which put a huge amount of strain on her body and sent her into hypovolemic shock,” her voice drops a little lower as she reaches over to lay her hand on his arm, “Coping with the shock caused her heart to stop and we lost her…”
He hears nothing more because something, someone, is drowning out the words, a voice repeating “no, no, no” over and over. It’s only when Martha stands suddenly and puts her hands firmly on his shoulders that he realises the voice was his.